This 'run of the mill' side door, of a kind seen in town's everywhere, led me into a new world, a bookshop! Not just a bookshop but a proper second hand bookshop with several nooks and crannies and several floors of books, some in order others mixed up. A wonderful find and I wondered how I missed it before. I missed it because it only opened up in this building last year having previously been half way down the hill. More custom, far more people passing the door, more satisfaction for all concerned. A delightful staff, friendly and I suspect knowledgeable, several floors and with a 'bargain basement,' on the top floor!
I just happened to see the sign in the window and this led me to the shop. An aged building, a small shop that is larger inside than it looks from the outside and books a plenty. Having only my 'outside glasses' and not coming prepared to search for books I was caught out somewhat but I suspect this shop will survive here and there will be plenty of time to visit again. This shop has all an old bookshop should have, the building, the people, the nooks & crannies and lots and lots of books. I must say one or two looked expensive to me but this is because I am so used to raking charity shops for books and some of those do not understand the worth of older books so bargains can be found. These people know books and charge accordingly, they must to survive in this 'Amazon' led book world. I hope they will survive, this is a proper bookshop.
William Gilberd was as is said a clever man who became a physician, looking after the English Queen Elizabeth and experimented with science to discover the earth was magnetic. He also came up with Latin words which others called 'electricity' and possessed a clever mind and royal approval. King James VI & I also approved but not for long as poor William died in 1603 possibly from Bubonic Plague. Perhaps he ought to have ignored science and physics and just studied medicine?
The house in which William was born is a bit of all right for the time. I suspect it has been altered somewhat over the years but looks all right from the outside. Once the place would see horses and the like entering via the gateway and lassies in flowing dresses gathering to chatter about the latest gossip in town. This house would in those days be in the dead centre of town and clearly Gilberd's dad had influence at the time. Clearly he also made sure he did not upset Queen Liz.
I was impressed by the ancient gas lamp outside the entrance to the old house but somewhat disappointed by the somewhat tardy lightbulb seen inside. However these ancient lights add a great deal to old houses, and many still remain in Camulodunum in spite of Nazi bombing during the war and council rebuilding after it. Behind me the area is modern 1960's or later style buildings. Two church towers stand reaching to the heavens yet only one is connected to a church building, and that one is no longer used as such as the church has a new place next door. The building now appears to act as a hall. The old buildings rub up against a new shopping centre which I can tell you freely contains nothing that was of any use to me.
Having searched every charity shop in town unsuccessfully I made for home and naturally found my bus running just ahead of me leaving me 20 minutes to wait. Nothing for it but lunch in the 'Hospital Arms' with a £3:40 pint of Adnam's 'Mosaic' and jolly good it was too! A decent small pub made from two old houses well worth a visit, clean and tidy, well set out, offering food that tempted and judgng by the notice board reasonably popular. This place gave me space to recover myself before I wandered over the road for the late running bus upon which I almost fell asleep. That beer was stronger than I thought...
Autumn brings with it dark mornings. Midsummer sees the sun shining brightly at five, or at least waiting to appear over the houses, Autumn means it hangs about there till seven and then often hides behind clouds. Struggling out from under the fetid blankets a glance at the window shows what the day has in store, dim sky, wind shaking the branches of trees, glacial air pouring through the gaps in the aged window frames. Oh joy.
This morning I clambered out into the world and waited while the boiler decided whether or not to work. During the summer it took ages to find a thermostat point that satisfied the brute and now the chill has arrived it has shown signs of working almost properly, normality for the thermostat has returned it appears. Eventually there was enough water for my weekly bath, after which I chomped on the remaining almost but not quite stales bread before eventually dragging my bulk towards the museum.
My head was still asleep as I had woken at 5:15 am or so the man rather too cheerfully told me on the wireless, but sleep would not return to me until I decided to rise just on seven. Why can I not get back to sleep in this situation? If I was going nowhere I am sure I would sleep again but no, today I drowsily lie there soaked in wakefulness my head filled with fears, failures, worries and thoughts of a debilitating kind. Twenty minutes more sleep and I would rise refreshed, cheery, and ready for almost anything, but no, instead my gloom is heightened by the arrival of a song, Nina Simone with 'My baby cares for me' going around and around my head until the arrival of the songstress in my abode would lead to twenty years solitary for what I would do to her! It's a decent enough song but not one I wish to hear, or bits of one, that I wish to hear for hours every morning!
Drowsiness suffused my hulking body as I arrived at the museum and found the doors locked. This meant walking all the way to the other door and ringing the bell, such stress at this time of the day. Once inside I found the 'Star Wars exhibit' gone completely and work begun on setting up the next one, old postcards and other bits. Clearly I had to take immediate action, I hid and made coffee.
On around the third mug, and I usually don't drink coffee, I noticed both eyes were now open and I began to see people walking about once again. The thing about exhibitions ending is that few people arrive in the 'in between' time and only the much wanted gas fitter came in early on. The boiler has been giving trouble and has not worked properly since February as far as I can tell. After a few minutes fussing he had it working, if you call three hours a few minutes. When I left the heating was on but by then I had been moving about and could not tell if it was working because I had been.
During the clear up some boxes had to be carted to a car and I was called upon by the disgraceful use of guilt by the females in the party to carry the heavy ones in spite of my condition. The constant refrain 'We can manage' from women as you know means 'DO IT!' I did it but my back hurts now. Can I claim compensation I wonder?
One lass today had a problem with a child. He had misbehaved badly and she felt guilty for slapping his bahookey. In the circumstances I thought she had acted rightly but parents do feel guilty when disciplining children. I told her not to feel bad, I would have been angry too at his behaviour and young as he is he is a human creature and requires the slap occasionally. Get it now so he knows how far he can go I say. A good family, proper parents, and the children are well cared for, such behaviour upsets the parents more than the child but that is what parents are for, they suffer, the brats merely learn about real life. These kids will make it and make it well in the end.
No visitors disturbed the peace today bar one lass checking the shop and another regular having a quick look round. Only staff running (I use the word advisedly) in and out kept me awake. I was forced to make my own tea as Peggy took the day off again but I accidentally swallowed a slice of chocolate cake left from yesterday by mistake while doing so. Actually two others did arrive one lass enquiring re a hotel we had never heard off. All the clever people were involved, all were ignorant of this building. We did however have educated guesses as to where it had stood and decided the Liberal club is probably the place under a new name. However we truly did not know the answer and gave the best help we could. Most annoying and meant I would have some checking to do when I got home.
The other chap donated a pile of pamphlets and papers of great interest, I found this out by going through them afterwards, great stuff! I mentioned to him out previous query and he answered it right away! Not only was it the club we had considered but I was in there with him only the other week! Someone told me it had been a restaurant but I had forgotten the name and did not know it did wedding receptions, which was part of the previous lassies query.
That is a good result and what we want from people in this town, knowledge that we have not got, and there is a lot of ignorance amongst us I can tell thee!
Home satisfied that one query was dealt with. happily I ate what passes for lunch and discovered I drank so much coffee I could not sleep. I still cannot get my eyes to close...
Today was a day of meetings.
Having spent most of the morning attempting to wake myself from my slumbers I had to march out for a meeting at St Paul's at midday. I stuffed my face with fattening cakes while there telling myself I would eat no more all week.
I lied.
Our discussion revealed the details of how most of the folks there landed up as Christians, and how interesting each persons story was. I kept quiet at this point, no point in boring them when they were happy. I avoided grasping a loose 'Bakewell tart' as i left intending to keep to my promise and walked along the road enjoying the sunshine and contemplating what I had heard. How these folks always either teach me something or make me feel inadequate when I hear their tales.
The museum discussion was straight forward. Exhibitions, changes in the shop, plans for the future, the usual stuff all accompanied by Ginger Cake which I accidentally shovelled down my throat. It is good for you they say! Naturally I said little here and let my good friend Peggy do all the talking, something she is able to do well, and I just nodded in agreement courteously.
Each of the 'top dogs' spoke of their work, our accomplishments and what they required from us. I kept quiet here. One thing I do think will be good is getting people to write or even better record their stories for history. We do have one audio CD of folks telling their experiences of work in the town and (£2 to you) and getting them to reminisce on their past lives, good and bad, would be a wonderful idea.
The good thing is I miss out the papers when I am busy. I therefore do not get worried by the pap they offer us. However I note the PM is going ahead (apparently) with 'Brexit' even though no-one is too sure what it means and the Chancellor man has rubbed George Osborne's face in it as politely as a Conservative Chancellor can, with a smile. The Cameron/Osborne past is so foul in the eyes of the Tory Party that a video of Cameron's time was greeted in stony silence, most unusual for this party. Now he is of to make money, I bet he makes less than he thinks he is worth.
An interesting array of aged scooters outside the Town Hall today. A 'Mod' was getting married and his mates all arrived to celebrate with him. These guys gather every Sunday morning at the cafe round the corner, aged bikes with aged men pretending they are 40 years younger than they are. Not all remember the original 'Mods' who gathered in large numbers in the 60's, the 'Who' were their favourite band and it is unfortunate no music was playing when I passed today. I suspect the bride would turn up on a scooter but did not wait to find out. I did think it funny that several were dressed in 'Skinhead' outfits, especially as the lack of hair was becoming apparent at their age anyway.
Yesterday I wandered as a lonely cloud by the other river in Chelmsford, the River Chelmer. A narrow winding stream flowing past hidden industrial works and row upon row of boxes in which people live their lives. Maybe it is just me but while the houses are perfectly acceptable there is no 'heart' to be seen in them. Many rows of decent enough grossly overpriced housing with decent enough people but no character to be seen. I suppose when the rows of 'two up and two down' were built in Victorian days people thought the same but those appear to have more character than today's estate homes.
Chelmsford today is summed up in this picture. The house that once was a mill, one for which I can find no history, sits above the wee bridge over the Chelmer surrounded by parked cars. Cars from which many have entered the building itself, now an office block, and others who have moved to similar buildings, possibly the university situated at the rear itself. Behind are more offices in the distance and several industrial units, car repairs and the like. The once idyllic scene now surrounded by modern blight. At least the council keep the waterway clear and the gardeners do a marvellous job looking after the paths around.
The gentle flow of the waters do not tinkle by in this area, the only tinkling comes from the many bikes that rush along the path carrying students to their work or possibly lecturers to their enlightening talks. It may be just the usual suspects going about their business of course but happily none of them smiled bar one pretty young lass and the rest merely carried the cares of the world as they passed by. Still it is a good thing when towns, oops this is now a city, keep their rivers clear and create decent paths through tree lines areas and encourage wildlife as much as is possible. This is to be encouraged as we need these green spaces in our concrete and glass world.
That concrete and glass world was where the path took me sadly, five story glass fronted new temples of Mammon reared up and I plodded through the main street, now at least filled with a lively market, bought my coffee to keep me going and headed for the butcher for three for £10 chicken pieces to keep me alive.
An interesting wee house, totally out of sequence with the road in which it lives, called 'The Rectory.' This stands (in 'Rectory Lane') next to a closed cemetery the details of which I could not read as the gardener had blocked the note with his vehicle. The cemetery has been closed for some time and now the only people bar the council gardeners who occasionally cut the grass to be seen there are vagrants sleeping rough. I am tempted here to add 'Rest in peace' but will refrain.
Above the Rectory door however I noticed this!
Quite what this is or was supposed to be intrigues. It is certainly not what Christian buildings out to be decorated with I would say, it looks more like some portrayal of a demon. Possibly it was placed there to upset the rector and he quite liked it, these Anglicans are strange folks. I have no idea who lives in this building now, it may be uninhabited as the curtains are drawn across the windows. No doubt this once housed the man responsible for the cemetery upkeep, and very nice too, no noisy neighbours in the past, and possibly it lies idle for the moment. No wonder with this guy above the door!
I've been reading Tristram Hunt's review of a book 'Citizen Clem' about Clement Attlee the great post war prime Minister, . What a difference between his understanding of life and that of the man we have suffered these past few years. Clem Attlee came from a prosperous background, discovered the poverty and generosity among London's East End and became a 'socialist,' though not of a Marxist kind. His socialism was my kind of socialism, not ideological but based on need and sharing the wealth where need existed. An idea rarely found in politics today.
“Instead of the exploitation of the mass of the people in the interests
of a small rich class,” he was declaring by 1922, “I demand the
organisation of the country in the interests of all as a co-operative
commonwealth in which land and capital will be owned by the nation and
used for the benefit of the country.”
Clem was to continue this opinion for the rest of his life.
The failure in the Labour Party enabled him to rise to the party leadership in 1935, continual infighting and the second world war meant he remained leader for over twenty years! The war changed everything and the Labour Party and the nation as a whole intended to ensure rapid social change missed in 1918 would not be missed in 1945.
Attlee's intention was clear:-
“by directing
the energies of the nation into the production of necessities for life,
and not merely into the production of luxuries or necessities for
profit. As the nation was organised for war and death, so it can be
organised for peace and life.”
“Fundamental
things—central banking, transport, fuel and power—must be taken over by
the nation as a basis on which the rest of the re-organisation of the
country would depend.”
Such ideas are excellent ideas and would be the way the nation was structured today had I been King. Nothing wrong with private profit, nothing wrong with enterprise and hard work, all these things the 1945 government encouraged, what is wrong is the privatisation of such things for personal profit at the nations expense.
Gas, electric, water, bus and rail, hospitals and post deliveries all should be run under central organisation. The service element should come before profit. This way economy can thrive while people can feel secure. Provision may be paid for but only with profits returning to the people not individuals and large monolithic companies, usually overseas. People first then profit. Such policies worked during the 50's and only incompetence and greed got in the way. Human failings always disturb peaceful co-existence.
There is no chance in our right wing greed led governments today for anything caring or service element to thrive today. Money speaks at all levels and caring for others has gone for ever. We need Clem Attlee more than we realise today.
Once again the mighty Darth Vader dropped in on the museum bringing Kylo Ren and a Stormtrooper and well over a hundred visitors along with him. I hoped for more visitors myself but a container lorry on its side at a major roundabout hindered traffic flow for hours and many would have taken the kids off into the last of the seasons sunshine instead.
However those that came were soon into posing with Darth or spending hours teaching dad how to draw, then cut out masks and badges of Star Wars type. We remain convinced the dads enjoyed it more than the kids.
Darth two came along and offered us the treat of watching a smaller Darth pose! Which one is more dangerous we asked but never came to an answer. Super sight! We also had a small stormtrooper return and a baby dressed like r2d2. He was about the right size!
The men who do the characters were as always marvellous! They take position for every camera aimed at them, were great at drawing in fearful kids, Darth especially had several wary of his presence, I suppose when you are three and see a man in black with heavy breathing six foot above you it can be worrying. He was great at posing with them and Kylo Ren and the Stormtrooper always positioned themselves well for the camera. Even at the end they would not change out of the heavy and very hot outfits until the last person had had their pictures, a superb group of men.
Standing stock still convinced visitors that these were merely dummies dressed up, then they would move and scare the life out of folks, it was good and made several folks day. Hopefully we can arrange similar events in the future as 'Star Wars' have ten more movies to make. The popularity of this series is amazing.
The pride in revealing their talent was endless. Gran was won out but she hands them back today and will sleep for a week! Never fails to amaze how the kids can really enjoy the craft work and it is more amazing how many dads and mums were doing it also! Big kids!
In the chill of the day ensuring we all knew Autumn had arrived the sun continued to pretend it was summer and tempted me out onto the zimmer bus. A trundle into the big city (they call it big) and a walk in the park by the river was on the cards.
The skies above were filled with puffy clouds (or UFO's to those who read the 'Daily Mail') standing out from the attractive blue sky. Here the sky is seen above the cafe which offered me a decent coffee for only £1:90, far cheaper than those expensive shops that fill all the high Streets in this world. Not only that the service was attractive, friendly and efficient. I will use it again when there.
It is no surprise this well cared for park was busy. Mums with pushchairs, joggers sweating by, workers on lunch enjoying the air and the occasional duck flapping about in the water. All in all a good way to spend your lunchtimes and make use of the cafe. There was a happy relaxed 'feel' about the place which is not always the case in cities, maybe the population had not yet gone for their coffee? Anyhow it was an enjoyable couple of hours in the sunshine.
During 1842 the Eastern Counties Railway (ECR) arrived at Chelmsford on its very expensive trek towards Ipswich. Eventually the line reached the destination but only after many money troubles. I suspect having to build an 18 arch viaduct across what is now Central Park in the town added to their financial care. The station now stands high above the town, the old signal box has is five story high on the north side, and this magnificent viaduct still carries the daily traffic, taking some 14,000 a day in the London commute. I constantly find myself admiring brickwork, especially the brickwork involved in creating thousands of Victorian rail bridges both large and small. No wonder the economy grew? The desire for railways ensured a demand for bricks, the railways took bare material to factories which turned this into goods which the railways carried away. The growing economy led to a move to the city, a demand for new housing, a demand for more bricks. Those simple red bricks help change the nation. I realise there is a lot more to this than my simple explanation but certainly the arrival of rail changed the world in a way little has until computers landed on our desks.
Here we see the Abellio service rushing towards Ipswich (is it my cynicism that makes me wish I had written 'the late running Abellio service?) possibly stopping at the Chelmsford but sometime charging straight through. A journey of just under an hour into Liverpool Street station has made this a commuter town a favourite for many. I find it a bit boring but at least all the shops required can be found here, all other activities are catered for and for many young families it meets their needs. However while the Essex County Cricket side play most of their games in Chelmsford their football team is so far down the leagues that it will take a year before they can join little Braintree and a further year before they can meet the 'big boys.' Maybe it will be their year this time...
Whether there are any fish in the River Can I know not but this man is moving at my speed today! In the background can be seen some canoes with slow moving oarsmen paddling along. The flow goes this way and I hope they can manage to fight the stream all the way back. Some distance down there is a canoe club which may be where they are heading, possibly they started from there and went up river. A nice pleasant way to pass a day like today.
I was somewhat surprised to see outside the shopping centre table tennis tables, 'Wiff Waff' to some of us of course, and is that a chess set laid out for use? It all looks to energetic for me, a quick trip to the butcher for '3 for £10 chicken' then off to catch the zimmer bus, admire old folks bus passes with another zimmer bus user and rest my knees.
After a hard days work yesterday, I began at 9:30 and didn't finish till 1:30, I then spent the rest of the day getting over it! Life would have been easier had people not kept coming in to the museum, I considered locking the door at one point as I could not finish the page of the book I was trying to read for people asking questions.
One delightful couple arrived from Idaho to seek out the town's history and wander about for a while enjoying the type of sights they do not see in the wide open spaces of home. Such make life worthwhile in the museum. The ratty ones grumbling because the afternoon talk had to be postponed as the speaker was sick did annoy, especially as they demanded to know why no-one phoned them as they could have taken the speakers place. Not having booked we did not know their number but that apparently was not a good enough reason! She was female...
This morning I woke just before seven. A glance through the stained glass window, stained with dirt that is, showed the morning mist was hanging around. This I thought was a gift from Jesus this morning so throwing on some rags, grabbed the camera and began wandering the streets.
The mist took a while to dissipate and I took a while to wander so we got on well. Passing people speak easily at that time of the day, at least in this small town, and snatches of conversation broke out as people wondered why a madman was taking pictures before the shops opened. One man was eager to get his daughter out for pictures as she was studying photo journalism, a good job I say, but as all 17 year old's do she was glued to her bed, probably until midday!
The windscreens reflected the changing temperatures. One man grumbled that this was the first time he had been out scraping his windows before moving off. Just wait a month and it will be frozen in the mornings, time then for old newspapers across the screen. The good days have passed us by and Autumn is at it's normal temperatures now, little cause for those expensive sunglasses until winter has passed.
'Twas on a Monday morning that the gas man came to call.'
Since that morning several months have passed and the gas mains in this street have not yet all been reconnected. Changing the gas pipes from the old lead ones to long yellow plastic ones has not been an easy task for the workers. Each house requires amendments and not all householders are around at the right time. The changes to the traffic caused by closing the road has been great for those of us who walk a short distance down here, people have however been going round in circles attempting to find their way in to the street. It will all be over by Christmas.
Where are people going this early in the morning I wonder? Some are rushing to get to work, others taking the dog out, or in one case the dogs with cat attempting to follow. Still others pass by engrossed in their thoughts strolling who knows where from nowhere it appears. It is surprising how many people in this small town are unknown to me. Many pass by daily and can be recognised, others pass as if in the night and are never seen again. I could see a short story writer sitting on the bench finding material for a story here. The young, the old, the lonely, the troubled, all pass this way their stories untold and disappear into the mist.
It never ceases to amaze me how spiders create such wonderful feats of engineering without spending seven years at Mechanical University. These tiny beasts, this one clearly hiding from the chill, has managed to build his web without referring to the instructions. It appears near perfect with the dew hanging from it yet if it breaks he (or is it she) will soon be out repairing and mending ensuring that sooner or later lunch will be served.
And they say there is no God...
Been quiet here recently, I ignore the news mostly as it is the usual ongoing stuff, the weather and being a fat slob has kept me indoors for the most part and nothing has happened except the stormy rain. This Collared Dove, or bloody nuisance as it is called when calling for his mate outside my window early in the day, posed happily for me until he actually saw me behind the filthy back window. He is about the only bird I see these days all the others have scarpered including the noisy Starlings who no longer squawk around the hanging feeders. Maybe it is something I said?
The wind and rain battering the window forced me to do those things left undone for so long, cupboard cleaning, rubbish dumping and long lost object finding. It is amazing what lies in cardboard boxes at the bottom of cupboards and I have just uncovered some slides from years ago of happy times and a black cat not necessarily connected. Now all I need is one of those devices to transfer the pics to digital so I can see them properly.
Sadly I also have two heavy boxes of photos dumped aside long ago that now must be gone through. Some will be quite good but I expect I will have to be 'Donald Trump tough' and dump the ones that need not be kept. The dust I will return to where I found it and remove it next time...
The lentil soup was another requirement that will be needed to keep me alive as I continue my calorie controlled diet. I lost 4 pounds since yesterday by not eating and humping things which no doubt will return today, however the soup, which is too salty, will keep me going for lunchtimes.
The 'season of mists and mellow fruitfulness' comes at a price. The price is a darkening sky, shorter days, colder temperatures and golden leaves falling from trees. That last one is a bugbear for some around here today. The rain and wind have loosened the leaves from countless trees and garden paths, streets and back alleyways bust be chock a block with these things today.
In days of yore one of our tasks was to clean up such leaves, daily we would sweep as far as possible knowing that tomorrow we would have to do this all over again, and again, and again until no leaves were left. This was not a job we enjoyed as there were daily tasks to accomplish at the same time. We never complained or grumbled, no we didn't, we just got on with it and looked forward to next year.
Round here one man not far from me insists on burning all fallen leaves and this delightful aroma reminds me of my Uncle George who did similar many moons ago. Uncle George had a small fire and the smoke did not come inside, my local man enables his smoke to travel a great distance from the far side of the park and to establish a home in my room. This delightful reminiscence will not be looked on as favourably as Uncle Georges is.
Once the weather ended its downpours I made it to the late night shopping and obtained no bread that satisfies. The best stuff had gone and I had to make do with 'heat it yourself' loaves. Greedy locals had bought all the decent stuff and left me hungry, or as hungry as anyone 16 stone could be.
At least I got a night shot of others failing to get the bread they wished. How much better it is to shop when the masses have gone home, how easy it is, how quiet, how bare the shelves!
